


Dark Nights, Bright Stars

by kaeorin



Series: Loki's Lullabies [48]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Affection, Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Love, Reader-Insert, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:55:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24156229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaeorin/pseuds/kaeorin
Summary: When you can’t sleep, you think about Loki, and touch him in the darkness. (Whispers of adult situations, but no smut.)
Relationships: Loki (Marvel)/Reader
Series: Loki's Lullabies [48]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1678240
Comments: 8
Kudos: 170





	Dark Nights, Bright Stars

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know about you guys, but sometimes I just need a fic that I can dive into where it feels like lying in bed with someone you love. Maybe this fic is a bit on-the-nose there, but I needed to write something like this, and I hope you like it!

When you were small, you were afraid of the dark. A little. At least as much as any kid was afraid of the dark. There was already so much uncertainty in the day-to-day business of childhood, so the fact that darkness could only shroud any number of other monsters and dangers didn’t make things any better for you. The only comforting part of the darkness, however, was the fact that maybe, if you couldn’t see the monsters lurking nearby, they probably couldn’t see you either. For that exact reason, you’d always refused to use a nightlight. At least until you learned about real creatures that could see in the dark.

When you got your own place, the darkness had changed. It was no longer menacing. You had blackout curtains on your windows—on purpose! They made it so that, when you turned off the lights in your bedroom and gathered the cool darkness around you like a comforter, you slept comfortably. Peacefully. In the morning, when sunlight began to snake its way around the edges of the curtains, you nearly always awoke refreshed and happy.

Now that Loki was here, there was...another lovely little level to the darkness as well. Sometimes his fingers would creep against your skin, unseen but unmistakable as he touched you. He could so easily bring you to the very edge of sanity, so that your fingers gripped tightly in the sheets, and then nudge you over the edge until you were keening out his name. Afterwards, even as your heart raced and sweat cooled and dried on your skin, he would hold you and whisper fierce words of love against the tender skin of your neck.

As an adult, you rather liked the darkness.

There was really only one time when you couldn’t find something lovely to think of in the darkness, and that was times like now. Sleep was eluding you. Life was especially stressful, lately, and maybe your brain was still ruminating on the work you hadn’t finished or something, but Loki fell asleep before you did. He wasn’t quite snoring, because _of course_ he wasn’t, but his breathing was just deep enough, just nasal enough, to give it the illusion of snoring. The sound always made you smile. It kept you company on nights like this. 

Carefully, you turned over onto your other side so you could face him. Your eyes had long since adjusted to the lack of light, so you could just make out the outline of his face, even if most of the sharper details were still hidden. This was when you longed for night-vision of your own. Secretly, you wanted to take in the sight of him like this, solidly asleep and surrounded by your sheets and pillows. You knew you’d see him in the morning, and that was always lovely, but it wasn’t the same. He was beginning to let himself sleep so deeply with you. When you couldn’t sleep, surely the next best thing was to gaze at him and watch his face move in _his_ sleep.

You moved even closer to him and reached out to touch his shoulder. He didn’t stir. Emboldened, you let your fingers drift upwards, until you were caressing his cheek with just your fingertips. His skin was soft, and smooth, and perfect. You pictured the way it looked in the light: like porcelain sometimes, but stronger. He was not delicate or fragile, but there was still something about him that had once warned you not to touch him. Even before the two of you became a Thing, you had ached to touch him. It wasn’t always necessarily about romance, either: you just got the feeling that he had not been touched nearly enough in his life, and you’d always wanted to fix that.

He still appreciated your caresses. His eyes would slide closed when you reached out to him. He never flinched away from you as though startled, even when he was almost fully distracted by something else. Often, he would merely sit quietly and let you satisfy your desire to touch him. He rarely teased you for it. You were very used to the gentle way his lips could curl up at the corners, the falsely-superior gleam in his eyes, when he pretended to admonish you for doing something silly. His words, themselves, could make you blush, but his face told the truth every time: There was something about you that had completely charmed him. Even when he teased, his face shone with adoration. But he never teased when you touched him. Maybe it felt too sacred. Maybe he was afraid that, if he did, you would stop touching him. Like that was even possible. 

You brushed your fingers along his cheekbone, along the delicate skin beneath his eye. Still he didn’t move. It wasn’t just his mind that trusted you. His body did. Here, at his most vulnerable, completely unaware of what was going on around him and, honestly, at your mercy, the deepest part of his mind knew you’d never hurt him. You cupped his cheek in your palm and gazed gratefully at him through the darkness. You’d die before you ever hurt him.

Slowly, you worked your touch still higher, so that you could stroke his hair. He liked that a lot when he was awake. More than anything, you loved the stillness that would steal across his features when you combed your fingers through his hair. You were familiar with the waves of goosebumps and relaxation that would wash over your body when _he_ played with your hair, and you had to assume that he felt something similar, Asgardian biology be damned. Playing with his hair always felt like a blessing. It kind of hypnotized you, honestly, to watch your fingers moving through the rich inky black of his hair. There were never many tangles or knots on his head—he was much too fastidious for that—but arranging the strands into a more precise arrangement always calmed you. You moved a little closer now, and pressed your forehead against his so you could try to smooth your fingers through his hair. 

This was a favorite for both of you: touching foreheads. It seemed so vulnerable to you, for reasons you couldn’t quite fathom. Every time he bent down a bit so he could rest his forehead against yours, often after stealing your breath with a kiss, you found yourself willing all of your love into him. It was hard to say certain things out loud. You just didn’t have the right words sometimes, but when you were this close, looking deep into each other’s eyes, it felt like he understood. Again, you wished it weren’t quite so dark in here. You knew that his lashes were long and dark, and that surely they curled perfectly against his cheeks. You could picture them almost as perfectly as though you were looking right at them, but you still wished you were _looking at them_. He was too beautiful for this complete darkness. His face needed to be looked upon, not just touched. Not just thought of warmly.

So distracted were you by your thoughts of the prince that you didn’t notice when he opened his eyes. Very little about him changed: he did not pull away from you, and he did not change position in the bed. You startled a bit when you caught him looking at you, and felt, more than saw, the way he smiled.

“You should be sleeping, dear heart.” His voice held no admonition or irritation at having been awakened, only that familiar tender heaviness that he often used here in the dark. You felt your cheeks grow warm. When you tried to pull away, however, he reached up to press his hand against the back of your neck to keep you in place. 

“I can’t sleep.” Perhaps truer words had never been spoken. Not only were you not particularly sleepy, but how were you _meant_ to sleep when such beauty laid here beside you? How could anyone sleep knowing they were not taking in the loveliness of Loki’s face? You cupped his cheek again and smiled. “You’re so _pretty_.”

He laughed quietly, rich chuckles rumbling through his chest before he pressed a little bit closer so he could kiss you. His lips were soft against yours, and warm, and you sighed happily before you could stop yourself. He growled in response and took your lower lip between his teeth to nip carefully. When you sighed again—this time a little sharper—he took advantage of that moment and surged forward, pushing you backwards flat against the mattress and spreading himself out above you. Your heart thudded in your chest, but not with fear. Never with fear. You could still feel him smiling.

“Then I suppose I should help tire you out,” he murmured, moving just far back enough that his lips brushed against yours as he spoke. His hands sought you out in the darkness, caressing your body in ways that made heat flood through you. “May I?” He pulled even farther away now, moving his mouth to the side of your neck so he could kiss and nip and growl as he pretended to give you time to think.

You worked your fingers through his hair and giggled despite yourself. He never needed to ask permission for this, but he always did. It made you feel especially safe beneath him, treasured. Protected. You tugged gently on his hair and relished the way it made him purr. “It would be an honor.”


End file.
